


Abandoned Chances

by Pigeonsplotinsecrecy



Series: Conversations [4]
Category: 9-1-1: Lone Star (TV 2020)
Genre: Conversations, F/M, Family Drama, Family Issues, Gen, Hurt TK Strand, Owen Strand's A+ Parenting, TK Strand Needs A Hug, The wtf pregnancy, family dysfunction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-13 04:53:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29521146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pigeonsplotinsecrecy/pseuds/Pigeonsplotinsecrecy
Summary: TK tells his parents what he thinks about the pregnancy announcement.
Series: Conversations [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1644988
Comments: 21
Kudos: 91





	Abandoned Chances

The words are ringing through T.K.’s head, ripping through him like a bullet, a feeling he knows all too well. “You’re going to be a brother,” his mother had said, and then when T.K. hadn’t been able to process the words, “I’m pregnant, T.K.” He’s not sure what to make of the words. He’s convinced that this is some strange joke. It has to be a joke. He’ll laugh in relief if it is a joke because his parents can’t seriously believe that they’re fit to be parents _again._

“You can’t be.” He shakes his head in disbelief because “How is that even possible?” T.K. once wanted a sibling. He’d dreamed of having someone to talk with during the darkest moments of his parent’s marriage, but he realized that wanting a sibling was selfish. It wouldn’t be fair to his brother or sister to bring them into such an unstable situation. He worried that they would be just as unhappy as he was. He wouldn’t wish that on anyone. He’d made peace with the fact that his parents were something he’d have to handle alone. It has always felt like his burden alone to carry— the price he has to pay for existing.

“It’s something of a miracle,” Owen says with a grin. It’s a miracle in the way that a heart finally becoming available after months of waiting on the transplant list is a miracle; one family has their prayers answered while another has their nightmares come true.

T.K. watches his dad take his mom’s hand, and it might’ve been a cute gesture if tender moments like that weren’t a countdown to the inevitable disaster that would follow as soon as the excitement turned into the hard reality. Gwyn squeezes Owen’s hand, and T.K. realizes that he is an intruder in their joyous moment. He can’t find it in himself to smile and congratulate them. He wants to. He doesn’t want to make a fuss, but he’s got no control over the surge of emotions that consumes him.

“Did you even think this through?” His parents’ hands disconnect, and they go rigid at T.K.’s tone. “What the hell were you thinking?” He’s never sounded more like a parent.

“T.K., we thought you’d be happy,” his mom tries. “We’re going to try to make things work.” She points between her and Owen. “We’re happy.”

“I don’t know why you thought I’d be happy about this.” T.K. stands up from the chair, unable to stay still. He feels himself start to pace. He’s trying to control his temper, but he’s frenzied and the crazed emotions won’t abate. “Trying isn’t good enough when you have a kid. You have to do more than try.” T.K.’s parents had tried a lot of things. They’d tried to care for T.K. They’d tried to work out their issues. They’d tried to stay afloat. But for all their trying, there wasn’t a lot of action. They wanted to change, but they didn’t put in the work. Owen especially. He wanted a fairytale ending while avoiding the difficult fairytale beginning. He’s always had a way of swooping Gwyn up and pulling her into his fantasy— T.K. too.

Owen has a way of making people believe in him, even when he repeatedly doesn’t follow through. When T.K. was eight, he starred in his school play, and for the whole weekend of the show, T.K. kept thinking that Owen would show up. Even halfway through the Sunday matinee, T.K. was certain his dad would come just as he had promised. Owen had never shown, but T.K. never let go of that small kernel of hope. Even when he should have known better.

“You always wanted a sibling.” He doesn’t even know which one of them said it, but words are throwing themselves off his tongue before he can even try to control them.

“I wanted a sibling because I hated being alone.” He’s never told them how lonely he felt as a kid. He’s not sure if that’s because he didn’t want to hurt their feelings— because he knows they love him— or because he didn’t want them to list a bunch of reasons why he shouldn’t have felt that way.

“Alone? You act as if we left you to fend for yourself without food or care for hours at a time. We always took care of you as well as we could. Just because you didn’t confide—”

“Don’t even finish that sentence, Dad. The only time you paid attention to me was when you wanted me to declare a winner in your arguments or when I was so fucked up that you had to pay attention.” T.K. doesn’t stop there. “You’re going to fuck up another kid, and I don’t want to watch that happen.” It’s too painful. Owen and Gwyn are already fighting like they used to, and a baby isn’t going to change that. A baby is just another tool they’ll use in their war to best one another. Fighting is like a sport to T.K.’s parents, and they are well suited for those kinds of battles, but that’s not enough for a healthy relationship. The thrill they get from challenging one another doesn’t create intimacy. It doesn’t stop them from destroying the people closest to them as they wrestle to come out on top.

“That’s not fair, son,” Owen says. _Son_ sounds like a slap in the face. Owen’s voice makes T.K. feel like a silly little kid who doesn’t understand how the world works. “Things are different now.” T.K. wonders for a moment if he’s actually the selfish one here. What if he’s deluding himself into thinking his parents are the problem? Maybe they’re right. Maybe he is being unfair. Maybe the real reason he doesn’t want them to have this baby is that he hates the idea that they might not be so bad with this baby. He’s jealous that they’ll love their second chance more than their messed up first. Because how can he ever compete with a baby, pure and unbroken? He wonders if he’s that messed up that he would begrudge his sibling for getting the effort that T.K. never got.

But, then, T.K. remembers all the fighting his parents have been doing since they’ve been in Austin. They haven’t changed. They haven’t even defined what they are. There’s no way that they should have a newborn. “I’m not being unreasonable.”

“Honey, we know this is a lot to process,” his mom says, and T.K. has always liked when she calls him honey. It makes him feel like he matters, but sweet words can’t take away years of hurt he’s tried not to have. He feels guilty for the way he feels because his parents had a lot of issues, but they weren’t monsters. It would be a lot easier to know where he stood if they were villains rather than normal people who do incredible things.

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” T.K. insists.

“I know this is a shock, but it’s our second chance to be a real family, T.K.. Your dad and I want to give this a shot.”

“A second chance? Not everyone deserves a second chance.” He takes a breath. “You only get a second chance when you’ve already given up on your first chance.”

“We never gave up on you.”

“You can’t even admit that you screwed up your first chance. ‘We made mistakes,’ that’s what you always say, and yeah, that’s true. You made a lot of mistakes, but the thing that drives me crazy. You blame those mistakes on circumstances. It always goes back to 9/11, but that doesn’t excuse away all the wrong choices you made. 9/11 was one day. What’s your excuse for all the other days?”

“Do you know how many—" and T.K. can’t let Owen finish that sentence. He’ll explode if he tries to push all the feelings that he has back into himself yet again. The stakes have never been higher, so if he’s going to lose his cool, it might as well be now.

“Would you listen to me for once?” T.K. asks, the weight of years of unsaid words pushing down on his chest.

“Fine,” Owen says. His voice is terse, but at least he’s allowing a conversation.

“I’m angry at you,” T.K.’s directing his words mostly toward Owen. He’d always gone easier on his dad than he did his mom. When he was a teenager, he’d blamed his mom for everything. He got angry at her when his dad wasn’t there than to question why T.K.’s hero kept letting him down.

“I always wanted to be just like you, Dad. You know that. From the time I was old enough to say what I wanted to be, I wanted to be a firefighter.” T.K. sat back down on the chair. “Then, 9/11 happened, and I was scared of losing you. I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t focus. Whenever you were gone, all I could think about was you not coming back, so when I most needed you to be there. You weren’t.”

“I couldn’t help that. They needed me.”

“ _I_ needed you, but you always put the firehouse first, and you’d do it again in a heartbeat because that’s how you are. You can’t let go of what you lost, so what you already have always takes the back burner.” His mom had always been busy, but he always knew that she would take care of him. Half the time, he didn’t know if his dad would even show up. It’s not like Owen was absent from his life, but even when he was with T.K., he wasn’t emotionally present.

“When I was a kid, of course, I wanted to be a firefighter because I wanted to be like you. You were what I thought every man should be, but as I got older, being a firefighter wasn’t about being like you. All I wanted was to be a part of your life. I knew I’d never be what you put first, but I figured that if I could be part of that thing that it would be close enough.”

“T.K.,” Owen’s voice cracks, “You’ve always been the most important part of my life.”

“I know you love me,” T.K. says, even though that love doesn’t always feel unconditional, “but words don’t cost anything, Dad. You can say them all you want, but until you stand behind those words while fire blazes and the world goes to hell, they don’t mean anything. You can’t bring someone into this world, telling them that they mean the world to you, and then put the whole world above them.”

“What are you trying to say?” Gwyn asks for clarification.

“I’m saying that it’s selfish to have a baby because you miss the good times. When you’re making this decision, don’t think about the joyful moments. Think of when things become a challenge. You’ve got to be ready to not just put their needs before you when things are going well, but you’ve got to make that commitment when times are hard because it’s that shit that separates loving parents from good parents.”

“Were we really that bad?” Owen asks.

“The problem is that you haven’t changed.”

“Your dad and I can be in the same room without murdering each other,” Gwyn tries at humor.

“That isn’t funny,” T.K. says, feeling exhausted. If he’s being honest, he might as well get it all off his chest at once before they go back to pretending that they’re all fine— just a happy but unconventional family. “You still put me in the middle of your fights, wanting me to take a side. I don’t want to choose a side. I love you both, and it’s not fair to make me choose when you two are arguing just for the sport of it. What makes you think that your relationship will survive more than a few months? You’ve ignored all the reasons you got a divorce in the first place.”

“We can work on that.”

“If you couldn’t work out your issues for me, what makes you think this new child will be any different?” T.K. knew that sometimes it was better for couples to call it quits than to prolong the uncertain inevitable. He felt relief when his parents had finally made it official. He’d always secretly wanted them to get back together, but the logical part of him knew that they were better apart. “You don’t even live in the same half of the country. If things go wrong, we’re not just talking about living a few blocks apart. We’re talking hundreds of miles.”

Gwyn sighs. She reaches her hand out, “You seem so sure that things aren’t going to work.”

“I had a front-row seat the first time your relationship broke down. How is it different now?” Owen and Gwyn look between each other, searching for an answer. “See? I’m not trying to tell you what to do.”

“It sounds like you are.”

“No,” T.K. corrects, “All I’m doing is telling you what you need to hear before you commit to this because children deserve to feel safe and loved.” He looks up at his parents. “And it’s not right to bring a child into this world to recreate moments you feel like you’ve lost.” T.K. knows that he can’t force their hand. He can’t tell them what they should do, but it wouldn’t feel right to let them have a baby on a whim.

The smiles have fallen off his parents’ faces, and T.K. can’t help the guilt that worms its way into his body. He feels like a jerk. “I wasn’t trying to make you feel bad,” he says, still trying to temper their feelings. He worries that he was too honest. He almost regrets having opened his mouth. This is why it’s easier to keep his mouth shut, make jokes, and stew in his anger.

His mom gets up, stoops to his level, and puts her arm around him. “You’ll always be my baby.” Her embrace is warm, but the anxiety doesn’t lift from T.K.’s stomach. “We both love you so much. That’s one thing we’ve never disagreed on.”

Owen agrees, “You’re the best thing we’ve ever done together.” T.K. can’t help but think that’s a lie because he’ll always be the chance they abandoned.


End file.
